Page 106 of The Twins

I nod through the tears. “We found out by accident. We just returned from the doctor, and it’s real. I’m pregnant, and the fetus is fine thus far. I wanted to make sure it was real before I told you.”

“Didn’t I tell you?” Charles asks. “I fucking told you.”

“Who’s the dad?” Carey asks, scrolling through her phone with her free hand. She leans against the bar of our open-floor kitchen. “I’m curious. Are you all… doing it? That’s so weird. I’ve never heard of such a thing before.”

“Don’t get any ideas, kid,” Vegas tells Carey, grimacing. The kid chuckles, and Vegas relaxes. I have to consider what we’ll tell our kid once it can understand what’s happening.

“It’s complicated.” I let out a sigh, regulating my breathing. “What are we going to do?”

Charles takes charge. “We’ll get ready for the baby.”

“You have two people to take care of now,” I say, lowering my gaze. Whatever struggles Remo goes through in his mind, coupled with mine… Charles and Vegas have their hands full.

“Technically, it’s three. I have zero regrets about a thing, except for fainting on you when you suffered domestic abuse by your husband. I felt like a pussy—”

Remo interrupts his brother. “You deserve a beating for leaving Grey to fend for herself, but please, don’t use such language.”

“That is extremely misogynistic, Las Vegas,” Carey comments. Vegas snickers in response to his nickname. “You’re supposed to mince your words in the presence of an impressionable teen.”

“All right, impressionable teen. What would you like to eat today? You’re our guest of honor —”

“Who’s going to get us into legal trouble for abducting her from her home and her job,” Vegas sneers, interrupting Charles from his hosting duties.

“Give me all the carbs. Pasta. Cheese. What’s on the menu?” Carey asks, her eyes big with cheer and glee.

“Pasta with meatballs? Is that fattening enough?” Charles grins. “It’s also Remo’s favorite dish, coincidentally.”

“Perfect!” Carey cheers.

Collectively, we move to the kitchen, where Charles teaches Carey how to cook. She’s as clumsy as I am in the kitchen, and it’s amusing to watch Charles stay patient for the teen pop star. To her credit, she is a good listener, and she ends up not chopping off her fingers while cutting onions.

That’s progress.

“Mom employs a cook that comes by twice a week to cook our meals. It’s all low-carb and not tasty at all. I haven’t had salt or sugar in ages,” Carey tells us as she continues to chop vegetables near Charles. Carrots. Red peppers. He’s busy with the water that’s beginning to boil.

I don’t scan other people’s bodies because it’s not my place to judge. After Carey explained her eating habits, I understand why she dresses in baggy clothes.

To disappear.

Her mom and her bosses want her to stick to the unbearable beauty standards of Hollywood. “I’m supposed to stay skinny to be desirable.”

“You’re a teen. You’re not supposed to be desirable,” Vegas comments, fuming. Once again, there’s no hint of sugar puff in his statement. It’s awfully sobering when he’s like that, to the point of intimidation.

I never fear Vegas, but when his playful side disappears, it anguishes me. It’s a sign of failure, cynicism, and gloom.

“I’m an actress. If people don’t want to be me or with me, then what I’m doing?” she responds, dragging out her words and dipping her statement in sarcasm.

“You said you wanted to be a doctor,” Vegas reminds her.

“But—”

“You’ll be a doctor one day. I promise you that,” he tells her.

Remo reminds his brother, “You’re not her parent or her guardian—”

“I’m not, but those that are make her feel like she needs to dumb herself down, don’t they? You know how that feels. I certainly do,” Vegas says, scrubbing a hand over his face. Remo glimpses at Charles, and he gives Remo a discreet nod. Remo doesn’t respond to Vegas’ harsh words. “Let’s celebrate this get-together while we can. I suspect that your employer and momager will come looking for you soon enough.”

“Oh, she’s already messaged me. She wants me to come home. I told her I’m with friends,” Carey says, shrugging. “I’m taking a couple of days off. I was supposed to practice a dance move at the studio today. Since we’re not shooting, I’ll be able to make up for the lost time.”

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